


My Body is a Cage

by Kodokuna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Biphobia, Blood, Cuban Lance, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Lance, fyi I don't plan on killing Lance permanently lol, shit!! this fucking insane! Why do I write these sad things??, that's just too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-02-17 22:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13086669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kodokuna/pseuds/Kodokuna
Summary: May 27th was the day that Lance McClain died. .. ?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title based off of the song My Body is a Cage by Arcade Fire, which I listened to on my Zombie Prose playlist. 
> 
> I wouldn't read this fic if you get triggered by death, blood, gore, or anything zombie apocalypse related. 
> 
> If u are nervous about this fic, feel free to ask me anything my tumblr is
> 
>  [here](https://big-new-adventure.tumblr.com/)

May 27th wasn’t supposed to have any significance. Not to Lance, not to the world. As often as things went poorly for Lance, it shouldn’t have been surprising that May 27th had ruined his life in more than one way.

May 27th was the day the world ended.

It was also the day that Lance McClain became an afternoon snack for his classmates.

Lance tried to remember what he could’ve been doing that day, as the pain in his neck built up enormously. He wanted to cry, but he was so scared, so paralyzed. All he knew was that he had to use the last bits of his sanity to come up with some sort of last memory to carry him to the other side. To move on.  _If I even move on._

That thought was a little too close to home for Lance. He knew he was probably going to die, but he couldn’t stand the idea of not going to heaven.  _Think, Lance. What were my last moments?_

Lance had always grown up in a very religious household. His father was a very self-righteous man, always spouting long lectures about the dangers of Hell and how close Lance was to an eternity there if he didn’t shape up his act. His “act” being having a boyfriend and not going to church.

Lance was always more inclined to listen to his mother’s thoughts. She had always told him that everyone deserves peace.  _”Some people just don’t understand. They’ve taken what they think God wants and have twisted it in their own way”_ , she said to him. This was right after he had introduced her to Keith. His father had just left him on the front porch, and he was sitting on the steps with tears in his eyes. Keith was waiting in the car a couple blocks away, having been warned it was best to just keep out of it.

 _”You are just in love, mijo. There can’t be anything wrong with that,”_  she had said to him. It was her little way of telling him that he was not evil; he was not sinning; he was not going against what God wanted.

Come to think of it, that was the last thing she said to him at all.

His best friends, what were his last words to them? His boyfriend, the love of his life, the person he was going to ask to marry him, what was the last thing he said?

Tears were already streaming down his face as the shock from the bite faded away enough for him to put a semblance of memory together. Pidge. Hunk. They were alive, right? Hadn’t he just seen them? And Keith?

His memory was starting to fade away, dots of it becoming more and more unclear.

Oh, Lance hoped that Hunk was safe. He hoped that Pidge was safe. He hoped that Keith was safe.  _Oh, Go d..._

 _He_  wanted to be safe.

Their faces and voices had vanished, and he found himself struggling to remember what he was doing. He was trying to remember-

A flash of a classmate. She had blood all over her face. She was running. Hunk and Pidge were running. And Lance tripped after pushing Hunk away from her. And she bit him-

She bi t h im-

S he b i t h i m-

Blood gushed from his neck onto the ground. Lance was dying. The corners of his vision faded. He was dying. So that was what happened.

So mu c h blo o d.

 

He wa s d y in g.

Nothing was making any sense anymore. But one thing was very obvious.

May 27th was the day that Lance McClain died.

M ay 27 th was the da y that L anc e Mc Cla in d ie d. .. ??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I really love hurting Lance lmao.


	2. The Boogie Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance find some friends. kind of.

It was dark. It was quiet. It was cold, probably. This felt like it should've been a cold moment, right? Lance was lying on his back, staring up at what he could only guess was a roof. Or a ceiling. Or maybe he was outside during a new moon. Or maybe the sun had exploded and everything was dead.

He couldn’t tell.

Everything was numb, like the feeling one got when they went to the dentist to get a cavity filled and they had to use some kind of chemical to numb the cheek. Or maybe it was nothing like that at all. Where was he? He couldn’t move at all.

It could’ve been hours from when he first woke up.

Well, “woke up” was a strong way of putting it. “Became” fit more. It could have been hours from the first moment Lance “became”. Even after that time, Lance felt no pressing urgency to leave. Anything that might have moved him to do something had evacuated his brain before he even had the chance to think about it.

He felt an itch to sit up and stretch, but his body did not feel as though that would be necessary.

He could hear muffled shuffles from somewhere close, but not so close that he could see anything. There seemed to be about 10 people, shuffling. How did he know that? He tried to take a deep breath until realizing that he wasn’t even breathing at all. Was that bad? Did he need to be doing that?

The shuffles had mostly passed, aside from two things that sounded like they were approaching his direction. Every sound, every grunt, every crack of a twig or some other thing sounded as if he was under water.

It was interesting to feel this way- to have some kind of pressure on him and all of his joints. It was a feeling that Lance knew would be annoying to accustom to.

Eventually, it became clear that Lance didn’t have any compelling reasons, physical or mental, for him to move. He wondered fleetingly if he used to be the exact opposite, always finding some way to stay on edge. An angry face with long black hair and sparkling purple eyes flashed in his head. Before he became numb like this, he probably had friends. He probably had family. He was probably in love.

None of that mattered anymore of course. None of anything mattered. He no longer felt anything, no longer wanted anything. That was the way it was. That was the way it needed to be.

He couldn’t remember why.

Something opened a door. He could not see anything, but the dullness of the steps were less so.

“Anything in here?” the voice of a man called. It was raspy and dry, as if whoever was speaking hadn’t had a glass of water in years. Come to think of it, when was the last time he had had a glass of water?

Lance wanted to speak, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the blood that filled his throat. (Oh. He had blood in his throat. That probably wasn’t good.) Instead, he let out a grunt that came out as if he was gargling water. He kept thinking about water.

Maybe drinking water would help with the blood?

“Yo, Nyma, check this out!” The raspy voice cackled and approached Lance. Suddenly a bright light shined in his face. Past the light, he could see what was probably the person talking to Nyma. His arms were covered in blisters and boils and his nose was completely gone. He grinned. _Disgusting..._

A girl that looked about his age came up to Lance with a soft smile. She was much more beautiful than the man, with only her fingers and her neck pickling into dark green spots of decay. Decay.. Decay? She was sick ?

“Aw, hun,” she brushed his hair out of his face. He couldn’t move, so he only looked at her. She seemed nice. She went on to poke his arms and his chest, keeping careful of his neck.

“He’s stuck in rigor mortis right now, and he’s probably not able to speak too well because of his neck being so torn up. His lungs are probably full of blood, too,” she turned and spoke to the man. Lance didn’t really understand. Was he gonna die? He felt blood in his throat, he wanted to tell them.

“So what’s the plan? We gonna loot him and carry on?” Lance found himself not liking the man too much. What was his deal? The lady seemed to care for him just fine. Why was he trying to ruin Lance’s chances?

“No,” she turned back to Lance and stroked his cheek, “he looks like he might be a good addition to the team. Plus he’s cute! Let’s operate on him and get him moving.”

Lance smiled softly, which made the girl giggle in surprise, so it was worth the trouble of moving his lips.

“See? What a sweetheart,” she reasoned with the man. He only groaned in annoyance, but did nothing to stop her from helping him. Lance counted it as a win regardless.

They got to work right away.

The boy- he had come to learn was called Rolo- pulled out a large syringe and handed it to Nyma, the girl, who stabbed him in the chest with it and started drawing blood. It didn’t hurt, which worried Lance a little, until she assured him it was part of his condition.

“I’m draining all of those nasty fluids and the blood from your lungs. That makes it easier for you to push out air and speak,” she explained, doing the procedure carefully. Pumping some other weird substance into his stomach, she continued on, “This is a special fluid that will keep the enzymes from eating your dying cells. I’m also pumping it into your pancreas, gallbladder, and liver.”

Lance didn’t really understand much of what she was saying. He was more preoccupied with her pretty face.

A couple of more procedures occurred after that, and Nyma tried to describe them carefully, but honestly it didn’t really matter to Lance. When she finished draining the liquids from his throat, she encouraged him to try speaking, telling him it would be hard, but to try even so.

“What’s your name? Let’s start with that,” she beamed at him. Lance tried to speak, but he felt like he had forgotten how to do so. He kept trying, though, and soon enough he had figured out to produce sounds with his throat, just like the grunt he had done when he had first encountered Nyma hours ago.

“L-L-La-La-aa-a- Lanccc-ccee,” he pushed out, the words coming out in ugly stutters. He found himself hating everything about his voice pretty quickly. Gross.

“Lance?” Nyma asked him.

“Y-yes-ss. Th-th-tha- that’ss-s m-my n-nam-me,” he struggled. He felt that the words should be coming to him easily, but they didn’t roll off his tongue as smoothly as he wanted.

“Woah! Great progress, Lance! Let’s not go too crazy, okay? We don’t want you wearing yourself out, right?” Lance nodded, his neck feeling gross and stiff. Nyma was so sweet.

Rolo was mostly silent throughout the whole exchange. Lance wondered if Rolo had experienced the same things that Lance did. If Nyma had approached him too. And healed him.

They waited until Lance’s rigor mortis went away, which felt like forever, but Nyma assured him it was only a day and a half. Rolo complained otherwise.

By that time, however, Lance’s talking was almost perfect. And he did a lot of it.

“So what’s h-happening here? Why am I like th-this?” Lance spoke as Nyma did check-ups on him. Nyma furrowed her eyebrows, looking as though she’d rather not talk about it. She glanced at Rolo, expecting him to explain.

Rolo sighed and turned to Lance, “You’ve heard of a zombie, right? Risen from the dead? That whole shtick? Well that’s what this is. You were eaten alive and now you want to eat brains.” That was put bluntly.

“L-Like the movies?” he felt uncomfortable in his skin all of a sudden and stiffened. Nyma noticed this and looked at him tenderly. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes said enough.

Lance would have laughed if it weren’t for the fact that he was scared of the idea of himself. He probably couldn’t laugh at all. Lance suddenly wanted the feeling of _his_ arms wrapping him up and shielding him from the things that scared him.

 _His_ arms?

What was he even thinking about?

Who was _he_?

Why did he keep feeling as though he needed to hold someone?

“D-do you guys remember a-anything from before you died?” Lance was suddenly glad the urge to throw up was not something he had anymore. He was sure that’s what he’d want to do right about now if that wasn’t the case.

“Well it depends, I guess,” Nyma spoke softly, “I can remember everything about my little brother, but I can’t remember his name. I have all of these weird visions of a life I used to have, but nothing is clear. I feel like I’d know if I saw him, though. I’d be like, oh there he is. He’s living. He’s alive.” Nyma seemed to get this far away look in her eyes. Lance glanced over to Rolo who just grunted.

“Don’t remember anything,” he refused to make eye contact with Lance or Nyma.

Lance liked to think he would remember if he saw _him_ , too. Whoever _he_ was. _He_ was probably alive. Lance knew _he_ was strong. He just hoped _he_ wouldn’t be reckless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song by Gnarls Barkley.


	3. All I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith experiences loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a minute, hasn't it? I'm gonna release the next chapter pretty shortly, since all it needs is some proofing. Title is based on a song called All I Want by Kodaline, which I feel like describes the way Keith is feeling throughout this chapter.
> 
> WARNING!!!!  
> There is a depiction of attempted suicide and suicidal thoughts that I didn't initially plan on, but felt pretty important in terms of Keith's future complex feelings. If you don't wish to read it, skip from "He was done." and start at "KEITH!" It's not too relevant just yet, but if you want a description of what happened in the scene, I'm gonna write a sentence or two at end notes.

_Of course,_ Keith slammed his fist into the steel beam underneath the bridge, _Of course he would be the first to die. Of course he would be the the one to push Hunk out of the way. OF COURSE HE’D DIE THE FIRST SECOND OF THIS FUCKING DISASTER-_

There were hysterical sobs behind them, likely belonging to Hunk. Pidge was ghostly silent, probably unable to register what had truly happened. The both of them were a mess, and Keith was _furious_. He was furious at himself for not being there for Lance. He was furious at Hunk for being in the way so that Lance had to push him. He was furious with Pidge for grabbing Hunk and making him leave Lance there to die. He was furious at Lance for dying. For leaving him here to try and find some kind of purpose when he already had lost everything he remotely cared about.

He was furious at whatever started this damn apocalypse. If it was God or mother nature or just fucking science, he was going to figure it out and reign terror on everything living and undead for the rest of his miserable fucking life.

“What’s the plan, Keith?” Pidge spoke in almost a whisper, their voice full of unspoken despair. He was too angry to respond, though. He was too busy focusing on not breaking into a roar full of hatred.

“I don’t know Pidge,” Keith simmered, ”You mean what’s the plan after you left Lance to fucking bleed out?”

They visibly flinched and buried their head into their hands. Suddenly Keith felt a wave of desperation. He _needed_ Lance to be alive.

But Lance was _gone_.

_____________________

 

Keith looked up from the fire he was tending. They were under a bridge on a highway miles away from the city. Hunk was eating some baked beans from a can they had gotten from the last raid they made. Pidge was fiddling with a burner phone that they had found in the trash a mile back.

“I was going to propose to him, you know,” he said softly, because he needed to tell someone. They had finally graduated and he was going to ask Lance to spend the rest of his life with him. Hunk looked up from his beans, eyes glazing over. Pidge sniffed.

Hunk cleared his throat and Keith could feel something rising up in his.

“He was too,” Hunk said, choking on his words. Keith would’ve freaked out if it were a Keith of four months ago. At this point, he had made his peace with Lance’s death as much as he could. He wasn’t even surprised that Lance had also planned a proposal. They were like that. Always trying to one up the other. Though in the past years it had been much more playful.

And then he died.

“Do you have the ring?” Hunk asked softly. Keith had to again remind himself that Hunk was like a brother to Lance, and he cared about Lance almost as much as Keith did. Wordlessly, Keith pulled out the small leather box from his jacket. The ring was beautiful, the sapphire gem matched Lance’s eyes.

“Lance would have loved this,” Hunk started to cry again, and Keith felt weeks of frustration and sorrow pile up until it spilled all over his cheeks. Abruptly, Pidge gave Keith a hug. They were sniffing quite a bit. Hunk grabbed onto the both of them and they all cried.

Once Pidge and Hunk had finally let it all out and retired for bed, Keith gave himself some moments to think about the past two months. He couldn't imagine spending this without Pidge and Hunk there for him like they were. There was something about killing friends and family after they come back from the dead that had brought the three of them closer. Unlike his partner, Pidge and Hunk weren't as forceful with being his friend. Lance would constantly come up to Keith and bother him, even if Keith didn't want him too. That method didn't necessarily work with Pidge and Hunk. They started off hardly talking to him at all, which only worsened after Lance. Unlike Lance, who wedged himself into Keith's life whether he wanted it or not, the two friends he made during this apocalypse snuck up on him. He didn't know how it happened, but they suddenly became the most important people in his life. Well, living anyways. He honestly didn't know what he would do without them.

He supposed that Lance would probably be pretty proud of him for sticking to it for so long. That wasn't to say there weren't a few hiccups, one in particular, as Keith remembered. He shuddered a bit, clutching the blue ring in his hands. _Time to sleep, babe_ , a heartbreaking voice in his head whispered softly. Keith sighed and let exhaustion take over him as he slipped into a sleep filled with memories and heartache.

_____________________

_He was done. He truly couldn't do it anymore. Standing on the rail of the bridge, Keith gazed into the rushing water with a glassy look in his eyes. He blinked and looked up to the sky. If there was a place after his death, they better be ready for him to raise hell. So many feelings ran through his blood, boiling it and freezing it._

_Lance was never coming back. What if he was one of those_ things _? What would Lance be thinking of him now? If he could see him, Keith wondered if Lance would be disappointed. Maybe. It had been a few weeks since the end of the world and after leaving the city, it had finally hit Keith that there was nothing left for him._

_He had left a note behind, saying goodbye to the people he was traveling with. At one point he would've called them friends, but he couldn't really distinguish anything anymore. None of it mattered anyways. He thought he might as well apologize for being so useless in a letter. That way those people might be able to understand why it didn't make a difference for him to stay._

_Keith put weight on his left foot, lifting his right in order to step off the bridge, but was interrupted by a shout-_

"KEITH!"

Keith leapt up from where he was sleeping with a start. Pidge was breathing heavily, as if they were running away from something.

"Pidge, what's-" Keith questioned, anxiety flooding his system.

"I went scrounging for more parts to build with," they interrupted, "And I know what you're gonna say but I really needed this part and I thought it wouldn't matter-"

"Spit it out, Pidge, what's going on?" He snapped, worry filling him rapidly. Hunk stood up and started messing with his jacket, obviously just as nervous.

"Well I was walking across the bridge, you know the one-" Keith visibly flinched."-ah, I'm sorry, Keith. Anyways, on the other side of the bridge, I could see some people walking on the highway. Well they weren't walking like they were dead, it actually seemed pretty human! So I decided to walk up a bit closer to investigate using the trees as a cover and- and-" they kept breathing heavily, as if they weren't prepared to say what they saw.

"Uh, Pidge? You're kinda freaking me out here," Hunk whimpered, not knowing what to expect.

"I- I saw Lance!" they gasped, and Keith felt his heart stop.

Instantly, it restarted and ran cold.

"You must have been mistaken," he growled at the same time Hunk said, "Th-that's impossible, I saw him.. I saw him die.."

"Listen, I know it sounds crazy, and maybe it is," they pleaded, "but maybe it isn't. Please Keith. Can we just check it out?"

Keith sighed. He didn't like this one bit, but he didn't want to hurt Pidge's feelings. They'd dealt with a lot of shit from him. The least he could do was go up to these people and see what was up.

"Fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that skipped the scene in Keith's dream:  
> Keith attempts suicide by jumping off a bridge, but wakes up before the rest of the memory is finished. Conclusively, he obviously doesn't follow through with it, but the dream is only him standing on the railing and contemplating different things and beginning to step off. 
> 
>  
> 
> Who's excited for that reunion? I am!!!


	4. Man or a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might just see each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is based off of Man or a Monster by Sam Tinnesz
> 
> Also I'm happy to give you any semi scientific explanations you might need. Some things just happen though because I'm not the best writer yet and so there might be one or two plot holes. Zombies aren't exactly the most scientific things in the world lol

It had been one month since Lance joined Nyma and Rolo. One month since the end of the world. 

Lance was hungry.

There was no solution to that, according to Nyma.

“As you know, you are dead, so you can’t digest foods, right?” Nyma struggled to speak as she climbed up the bridge. They were always on the move, but Lance didn’t really have the guts to ask why. He grunted a yes response and Nyma rolled her eyes.

“The only reason we feel compelled to eat- and living humans at that- is because of the virus inside us and its urge to spread and stay alive. The virus convinces our brains that because our cells are dying, we need living meat to replenish it, which is untrue.”

She held out a hand from at the top of the bridge. Lance grabbed it without hesitation. 

“How do you know all of this, Nyma? Rolo doesn’t seem to know anything about this,” Lance questioned, snatching a supply bag full of operating equipment from her to lighten her load. She smiled tenderly at Lance. A smile that used to feel so sweet was now leaning towards suspicious and odd. While he was grateful for everything Nyma had done for him, it didn’t make any sense that she’d know all of this. Her smile was the same every time he asked anything. The same, eery, smile. Lance could've sworn he felt a shiver run through his spine. 

“I’ve had this virus for a while. Remember asking how I knew you were different?” she headed forward. Rolo was farther ahead than the both of them. 

Lance did remember that. It was when he truly started suspecting her of something. 

_”Oh, Lance. Wondering if perhaps every dead person will be like you given the right equipment? That this misery fest can be resolved?” she had giggled. It was moments like those that made Lance very uncomfortable around her. That reminded him that she was not to be completely trusted. Because at the end of the day, Nyma knew too much. That she had seen all of this coming way before it was going to happen._

_He shifted uncomfortably and nodded._

_“Unfortunately, it’s not that easy,” she had a dead look in her eye, something that was surprisingly uncommon for someone who was dead all of the time, “There are multiple conditions for a sentient living dead person.”_

_She had leaned in close for this one, which would normally have delighted Lance, but instead frightened him for some unusual reason._

_She held up her index finger to emphasize a one, “You must find the person within four to five hours of their death.” She added her middle finger to make a two. “Their brain must be completely intact and untouched.” Her ring finger- “And they have to respond to verbal commands. Most living-dead things do not respond if someone calls out to them. The sentience thing is mostly dumb luck after the first two conditions are filled.”_

_She went on to explain that Lance was one of the first people other than her and Rolo to follow those conditions. Her long explanations did not ease the creeping._

“Yeah,” Lance muttered. 

“Well, Lance, I was very close to where the virus started. So I’ve got a bit more experience than you do,” Nyma said, sounding tired. 

“She also had help,” Rolo called out from ahead. Nyma send him a glare full of daggers. _Help?_

They dropped the matter quickly, not talking about it anymore. Lance didn’t forget about it though, locking it away along with the other memories he had come to know after being in this form for some time. 

________________________

Lance finally got out of the city with hardly any trouble. Nyma and Rolo kept a brisk pace the entire time, but they all had to rest periodically in order to not wear out their muscles. Apparently muscles just wear down with use if not properly rested and since they were dead, there was no healing to be done when that happened. 

It was almost four months into their journey when Lance finally felt the courage to ask where they were going. In four months, he had come to terms with his fear of reflection. He was afraid of other living dead things, but most importantly, he was afraid of himself. The urges he had felt throughout that time almost broke him. He had only seen glances of his self, but what he saw wasn't pretty. His skin was almost a sickly green. His hair musty and dry. He couldn't bring himself to look at his face, but in the times when they'd raid a pharmacy for the necessary supplies to keep them from decaying, he might have passed a mirror and noticed a disgusting closed and poorly stitched wound consuming the entirety of his right shoulder and neck. 

They'd all been through so much in four months. It was a long time to stay alive/dead. In all of that time, unfortunately, they never once encountered any new sentient zombies. Lance was getting frustrated. At first he thought they meant to get new "recruits" or something. Then he supposed they might be looking for Nyma's brother or Lance's family, or maybe even... Maybe even his _someone_. Once they left the city, it was clear that wasn't the purpose. They walked and walked, bumping into other dead packs along the way (these packs being more of the ravenous hunger kind), neither party really bothered the other. This was mostly because Lance and maybe even the other members of his crew were unsettled by the people that had suffered the same fate as they had.

So Lance decided he should ask. It's not like she was acting like it was a secret. Most of the time Nyma just didn't tell him things unless he asked. He wondered if that kind of one track thinking was a characteristic of her personality, or the disease. So he asked. The answer was almost worse than not knowing at all. 

"The landfill," Nyma said simply, her voice low and without room to question. Lance opened his mouth to speak, but Rolo turned around from his usual spot in the far front and put a disgusting decaying finger up to his lips in a universal _shut the hell up_ motion. He pointed quietly to the woods on the side of the highway they were walking on. Lance was confused. _A bird? A wolf? What's the big deal?_

Nyma turned to Lance slowly, "It seems we may have to make a detour. Looks like Rolo spotted someone." Lance's heart jumped. _A living someone? Or just a dead someone? There aren't a lot of dead people in the woods._

"Why do we need to take a detour?" Lance whispered. They'd never come across a living human before. He was fascinated but terrified. Would they want to kill him on site? Lance would do the same thing if he saw dead things trying to take his life. If he'd been more aggressive to zombies, he might have survived. Not that he really remembered how he died. Rolo dropped his hand.

"They're gone," he growled. Lance almost felt another shiver. Moments like this reminded him how inhuman Rolo was. Well, they were all inhuman, but at least Lance and Nyma tried to be as human as possible. 

"Then let's follow them," Nyma smiled again and Lance had a bad feeling about this. "They might have something we need."

It didn't take a genius to realize how dangerous this would be. Living people were just as dangerous to Lance as Lance was to them. Maybe not in the same way, but it didn't stop Lance from shaking. Nyma and Rolo pulled out some weapons to make them seem more threatening. Lance didn't think they needed any help. They were both terrifying. Lance probably looked the same way. 

So they turned towards the woods to follow the person that Rolo had spotted. 

_________________________

They could see a bridge that stretched over a river. _What an odd place to put a bridge_ , Lance thought. They approached the bridge, and Lance gazed over at the rushing water as they stepped forward. 

"Keep up the pace," Rolo grunted as quietly as he could, but walked slowly. Lance rolled his eyes, and yes, he knew he shouldn't be doing that. Eye's could fall out of his head blah blah. He was _fine_. Jeez. 

As they continued walked as quietly as they could, Lance could hear rustling and murmuring. If his heart could beat, he was sure it would be racing. In the distance, on the other side of the bridge, Lance could pick out three figures.

Once they had gotten to the point to which they were maybe 40 yards apart, Nyma tensed, as did Rolo. Lance was already so tense he didn’t think he could get anymore. 

The other group stood still once they stopped. For a moment, everyone was silent. 

_________________________

“Drop your weapons!” Keith called out to three figures across the bridge, “Or I’ll shoot!”

The figures did not respond. Perhaps Keith had been mistaken when he heard talking. Perhaps Pidge was wrong about these people being anything but dead. Hunk and Pidge, standing at each side of him grew tense. 

A female voice called back, “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. How do we know you aren’t gonna loot us?”

“I could say the same to you!” Pidge yelled, their voice shaking. The figures drew closer. Keith felt a shiver up his spine. Something wasn’t right. The two groups forged ahead.

When they got closer, Keith could have sworn his heart dropped and soared at the same time. 

“Lance?” Hunk whimpered.

________________________

Nyma turned to Lance sharply, “You know these guys?”

Lance’s head was spinning. He was supposed to know them. He tried to come up with words on his tongue, but nothing was happening. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t thi nk. He couldn’t t hi n k. 

“I-” Lance started, but couldn’t even get close to forming a thought before one of the people sprinted up to them, getting only about 10 feet away. The figure was in tears, their violet eyes tinged red with the water flowing from them. 

"It can't be you, I-it can't-," one of the figures from farther away started to sob, but was interrupted by the person in the red jacket that had sprinted up to them desperately. 

"Lance," He whispered, inching closer, his voice sounded devastated and relieved all at the same time. Lance felt his world crumble into confusing memories and thoughts that didn't feel cohesive in the slightest. Instantly, he was thrown into a world of the past.

_Tangled in warm sheets, he glanced over at violet eyes fondly. "Whatcha thinkin about?" he giggled to his partner. It was so warm. He felt so much love._

_"I don't know. It's nothing," he smiled softly. Now this was a smile he could trust. It might have been rare, but so genuine. So freeing._

_"______, tell me silly!," Lance grabbed onto his lover and snuggled into his neck. He was so warm, but somehow something felt wrong._

_"I just miss you so much Lance," he looked up to him with sadness in his eyes. Lance's blood ran cold._

_"What?" He gasped._

_"You went and died on me. You left me all alone," He grabbed his face and started to cry, "You forgot me, didn't you, Lance? How could you? How-"_

Lance choked. He looked up from where his gaze had slipped into the floor of the bridge. Touching his face, he found tears, warm, all over his cheeks. 

"How-?" Nyma's mouth gaped open in shock- he wasn't supposed to be able to do that.

"I-I'm so sorry," Lance choked through the sobs that were racking through his body, "I'm so sorry I forgot about you."

With those words, the figure in the red jacket stepped back in surprise. In fact, everyone around him stepped back in surprise. 

Because Lance, after four months of being dead, was shedding tears like he hadn't ever felt the icy grip of death before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh i sure hope this wasn't too shitty...XOXO will Lance remember? maybe!


End file.
